I can safely say with great confidence that this year’s blog has had a better year than the guy actually doing all the posting – even though I was a few short clicks away from my ultimate goal of getting 8000 – but definitely happy that I went way and beyond of surpassing last year’s total of nearly 6000 clicks and like a albatross hanging around my neck, I can’t help but chalk it all the success of Harry Perzigian’s afterlife series of blogs. Both vice.com and the nhl/kings websites latched on Harry’s forgotten song written in honor of once upon a time LA Kings goalie Kelley Hrudey when the Kings first won the Stanley Cup back in the 1990’s.

But Harry’s afterlife success has also served as this blog’s curse as most of my year’s output on other subjects such as progressive rock, free comic book day, comic book television genre show ratings, and Star Wars took a back seat to what I’m trying to achieve with this blog. So, it’s with heavy regret that I’m not posting anymore bullshit stories about Harry Perzigian. That chapter is done. I refuse to pay any more money to the therapist and I emerge out into the clean outdoors with a clean slate and a much more better appreciation for everything Los Angeles and everything that it stands for me.

it’s a Donald Trump hating town and I’m happily swimming naked in my sanctuary and relish in the glorious sunshine that the consensus of my fellow Hollywood American that no one thinks he’s their president either.

He’s a fucking horrible excuse for a human, let alone a unqualified poser to be leading this nation and I hope that one day in 2018, if the fucking orange turnip face ever shows his face in this city, I can certainly hope that a friendly Cholo on his way of getting deported from his true national land accidently fires a GLOCK into his face and all of us Los Angelenos cheer at the Big Fat fucking Cheetos’ demise.

So next blog time, minus the Harry Perzigian dedicated blogs, more sweeps and media inspired meanderings (first post of January will be an analysis of last’s November comic book show sweep period) and Zak Alvarez will be participating in our guest star series with an essay on Scott Cooper’s riveting new film on the old wild west called Hostiles.

So, here are my year end stats.

Posts and Pages of 2017.

1. One Mourning Later in the Extraordinary Afterlife of Harry Perzigian – 2456 views

2. The Songs of Harry Perzigian – 526 views.

3. Two Mournings Later in the Extraordinary Afterlife of Harry Perzigian – 327 views

4. Yes Log 1979: You Coulda Been a Golden Age Contender – 259 views. This special Yes Log entry continues to be a perennial favorite amongst the Yes fans of the most requested album never to be mastered and instead existed in bits and pieces amongst the Yes expanded catalog. Or is the real reason for its’ everlasting success is that I was falsely accused of raping a woman during my teen age formative years?

5. Three Mournings Later in the Extraordinary Afterlife of Harry Perzigian – 247 views. The third and final chapter of my Harry Perzigian afterlife trilogy is the only entry of 2017 to crack the top ten. In this chapter, I examine the common bond that Harry and I shared – which was shacking up with deranged porn actresses.

6. Yes Log: A Happy 73rd Birthday to A 1970’s Renaissance Man – Jon Anderson of Yes!! – 228 views. I changed the title from Jon Anderson’s 70th birthday to 73 because I noticed that blog was still gathering steam.

7. The Beef Curtain Misadventures of Rikki Lixxx & The Escape From Hazeltine Hellmouth – 188 views. Almost a decade later, people are interested in reading about my near three year tumultuous affair with crazed nine black cocks in the mouth at the same time porn auteur Rikki Lixxx. She wasn’t sucking nine black dicks at the same time in her mouth at the time that I knew her – but that’s how she’s still making her living these days through the magic of youtube and a live streaming feed. That’s what friends tell me these days.

Jonny Quest: Past, Present, & Future Tense – 183 reads. A longtime cartoon comfort food staple. I never got around to updating this entry since I have finished obsessing over fulfilling my promise of watching every Jonny Quest episode ever made. I finally got around to finishing the final episode of the Real Adventures of Jonny Quest last Thanksgiving. The Hanna Barbara comic book revival of Jonny Quest and his adventure hero cohorts still continues as a anthology series, called Future Quest presents (in fact, I read the Steve Rude drawn Birdman issue just LAST NIGHT.

Yes Log 2014: IF ONLY THESE SUBWAY WALLS BETWEEN HEAVEN & EARTH COULD TALK – 103 views. This is the prelude to the Harry Perzigian Afterlife trilogy when I discovered Harry and his giant horse cock bleeding and convulsing body in his Brentwood apartment bed along with seven giant bottles of Canadian Mist and crushed bottles of Methadone sprawled all over the floor.

Of Wine, Women, and Post Progressive Sounds – A Guide To the Heroines of K-Scope Music – 82 views. This blog entry from 2016 had gathered a lot of traction this past year of which I’m extremely grateful for since hopefully these short write-ups of great female singers on the K-Scope Music roster such as the Anchoress and Anathema’s Lee Douglas will embrace a new cache of fans. It was neck and neck for a while for a another woman centric entry dedicated to Hyapathia Lee, but Hyapathia’s popularity came to a stand still during sometime last fall and the K-Scope one kept chugging along.

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A few words of personal loss.

Dan Hunt was my instrumental beacon. A beacon of someone of teaching me never to lose his way. I learned everything I could ever learn about being charitable towards my fellow man. Because of Dan, I decided to pass on the baton when it comes to helping out those in need around FREE COMIC BOOK DAY when I endeavor to hand down a few hundred dollars a year in dedication to the Hero Initiative. It was just something about him I used to observe firsthand during the time when I was his assistant in operating his comic book card shop ROOKIES & ALLSTARS with his partner John Lindsay in the 1990s’. We’d used to go downtown LA on a stocking trip for store supplies and trinkets such as framed posters and Pokémon cards and once Dan parked his car on some rat infested street near the many wholesale markets and indoor bazaars that we used to frequent, all of a sudden, from the shadows of alleyway darkness, a whole underground cabal of people who would emerge to keep eyes and ears to make sure that we came in and out off the streets with our lives and safety intact. Of course, Dan palming out twenties to downtrodden sentries to make sure our parking meter was full of change at all times was probably the underlying incentive. Of course, reminding myself of the times of him partaking in the alleyway cuisines of green pepper and onion Mexican sausage carts could’ve been a underlying theme to the reason why he’s buried in graveyard near Las Vegas’s McCarran’s Airport constantly craving a In and Out Double Double Cheeseburger. That and a pack of Misti cigarettes.

Either way, I was happy to be part of his extended family and all the opportunities it helped me to pursue with living at his house in Sherman Oaks for nearly the span of a decade and helping me getting my name out to the masses in the comic book community where it was at his house that I composed most of my essay and editorial symphonies for the Comics Buyers’ Guide until I was ready to venture out on my own when I had been hired to work at Warner Bros (but then, look at where I wound up – living next door to whacked out porn actress – Rikki Lixxx.)

Since last summer guest movie review of Wind River struck a chord with some of you, Zak Alvarez graces us once again with Native American insight into this year’s blockbuster science fiction extravaganza, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, the second movie in the monumental franchise to not to really have any real involvement from creator George Lucas, and according to both me and Zak, it’s probably the best step in the right direction because it’s the first movie I ever seen in the series to not really rely on ‘rhythmic patterns’ and doesn’t really have a cliffhanger for an ending to make you wait two or three years down the line yearning for the next one – although it may seem like it’s the midichlorian count calm before the storm.

I sent Zak out to cover an industry only invite screening of The Last Jedi which would feature a very riveting revealing soliloquy by the movie’s sole writer and director Rian Johnson that lasted over an hour and was even made more exciting that it was also the auteur visionary’s birthday as well. I already attended an earlier employee screening of the movie with two of my best buds from my high school days, Joe and Mark Zullo, so I was way too beat to stay another addition three and half hours to sit through the movie again (and it is AN epic length of 2 and a half hours – the longest film in the entire franchise), so I stuck around long enough to allow Zak in and I took my leave after I cleared the cosmic cobwebs right after Super Leia channeled her inner Silver Surfer, which I missed the first time around due to the refilling of my popcorn bucket and took my leave to head up home. So after the early evening screening, Zak had walked away with some pulse pounding peyote induced philosophy that he would like to share with us.

Before we give the platform away to Zak, let me point out that Zak will be back again in a month or so to present us upon his wisdom on the newly Scott Cooper directed Western, Hostiles starring Christian Bale, Rosamund Pike, and Wes Studi. Until then, have a great Christmas work break and I’ll be back on the morning of 31st to give us another yearly edition of that world renown All and Accounted For In the Craziness of Stats, In the Craziness… Bob Hope USO tour that you all enjoy so much.

So now, here is Zak’s assessment of “Star Wars: The Last Jedi”

“I really noticed 4 crucial points:

One, Luke’s passing was marked by the setting of two suns. Well, Luke’s entrance into the epic story was marked by two suns setting on the surface of Tatooine,

Second, Rian Johnson introduced new never before elucidated powers that one can possess if one is strong with the Force. Total projection of one’s physical body not just as a hologram, but a complete double. Another power is full definition streaming content communication between Jedis, Siths, and sorcerers of the Force across an entire galaxy. Definitely a tech upgrade or a sign that the Force and its’ practitioners are indeed evolving.

Third, Rian Johnson stated in the Question and Answer session that Luke’s double or doppelgänger was his “matrix proxy” (I’m pretty sure that is the term that he used) The use of that word is very significant to me in that it indicates that Rian Johnson seems to have been swayed by the Matrix trilogy, but I also see license taken or borrowed from the mysticism made alive in Carlos Castaneda’s books (Don Juan talked about the concept of the “double” with the exactly the same characteristics and capabilities).

Lastly, James Cameron’s Avatar without a doubt may also have a progenitor here. A definite influence for sure. If so, then the powers of the Force are only continuing to surprise in their unfolding.

I wish to also take note that the word and concept of hack and hacking is now part of the Star Wars lexicon, as it has become that of its own world of 2017. The two characters, Finn and Rose Tico embarked on an excursion to a gambling casino planet to seek the help of a master hacker and failed, although they found an equally skilled hacker in Benicio Del Toro’s DJ character who later proves to be a charlatan not hesitant in betrayal. The mercenary in this Star Wars film does not choose redemption. He gives up the rebels he initially agreed to assist, takes his reward money and splits. But how do we know he wasn’t the guy they were intended to look for in the first place?

In the Wachowski Sisters films, if you die in the Matrix, THEN YOU DIE IN REAL LIFE!! Luke was lightsabered seemingly and fatally TWICE and with valiant grace, he dematerialized mid-levitation. More significantly, THIS is telling us a final revelation: Luke’s decision to directly encounter Rylo Ken’s anger through the support of an apparition supports Buddhist, Hindu, Vedic, Castanedan Toltec suppositions of past literary works that all the universe is an illusion, all pretend, A GIGANTIC fantastic matrix. A phantasm by super collective conscience agreement. Therefore thus and so forth we realize in the end, all the Star Wars fantasy may as well have been one huge long dream by one Luke Skywalker.

Which may now come to a glorious superlative end with the appearance of the twin suns, just as it began so long before.

The Luke Skywalker dream within a dream within a dream is now a memory and the legend continues. The Force lives on in the lives of fatefully chosen others.

Zak went on to say that a birthday cake was sprung for the occasion and while some were lucky to score slices and some were not, Rian did pose for selfies with fans and industry professionals in the lobby since photos weren’t allowed to be taken during the Q & A.

For those interested, you can find Zak Alvarez on facebook, where he can tell you what movie projects he’s constantly working on as an extra, such as the upcoming 2nd season of Westworld or find out in what part of the state of California that he is conducting his many spiritual stone moving sojourns.

Here’s another homemade original blog ado about nothing in the tattered tradition of the old blogspot days.

Picking up from I left off from mid November of miserably trying to convince that the events of the last Marvel Comics mega summer series, the Secret Empire in which Captain America was manually brainwashed by a cosmic cube to worship fascism instead of the concept of freedom that this country to offer. I was trying to convince you that the series’ writer, Nick Spencer pretty much mirrored real life when we actually got real fascism back in this county making itself an encore appearance in the form of Donald fucking douchebag Trump being selected under Russian guidance to spiral our nation into a direction that we have no business of heading towards.

I don’t think that message was going out clear enough, so I need to try a different approach.

Here’s some food for thought: If you can’t stand sexual harassment in the allure of Hollywood mysticism – THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA IN THE FIRST PLACE??

I ask myself that everyday.

Because literally that’s why I moved out here.

To be sexually harassed.

Well, didn’t you?

Chasing the dream of growing old in the golden state with a beautiful babe hanging on to each arm while behind the wheel of a McLaren sipping Dom Perignon and smoking the latest Blueberry Crush you picked up at whatever lowlife Van Nuys area dispensary before making your trek down to Wilshire Blvd in order to show off your stinking fucking golden bling until you realize.

…until you realize.

You crashed your fucking car right on Rodeo because then you realize the stark reality has just hit you – YOU AIN’T FUCKIN’ LiAngelo Bal AND you HATE THOSE GODDAMN FUCKING SNEAKERS – but yet your mind was so fixated on the booze, the blow, and the fingers up the broads’ wazoo – THAT YOU TURNED THE WHEEL WAY TOO SOON and you swerved right into the window of the Paley Center of Media and there’s glass flying every fucking where No before you try telling yourself ‘hey, it was just an honest mistake’ – you got to come down to earth, pal – You physically had too much to handle. Too much going on.

20 years ago, 30 years ago – perhaps BACK WHEN I WAS trying to make my first stab in trying to embrace the Southern California lifestyle in 1978, THIS was the normal behavior of every hot blooded male of all ages (at least past the age of thirteen), colors, shapes, and sizes – but now in the current age of the 21st century 20 teens – we’re all of a sudden told to CURB OUR APPETITES or to SLOW YOUR ROLL. Don’t be grabbing or reaching up that miniskirt of that first slut you see parading her wares at the Rainbow Room you see- BECAUSE NOW AFTER THIRTY SOMEWHAT YEARS OF LIVING THE LIFESTYLE– it’s all magically been declared wrong.

But the girls don’t have to change. They can wear the shortest miniskirts, have thong and ass cheeks to proudly display and there’s not a blessed thing you can do about.

Look away, because that erection you’re getting just from inadvertently looking- JUST MIGHT LAND YOU IN PRISON PAL!!

And you’re just going have to adapt. Adapt to the new age of you may look and sniff, but no scratching. No touching. No matter how much you’re craving walking like a hungry wolfhound down Sunset Blvd.

But holy shit, once you turn out to be a super celebrity or SEEN ON TV – all that stuff you did back in the eighties and nineties that you once thought you didn’t need consent for and were nothing back then but regurgitated guffaws to share over and over again at company Christmas parties.

Well, that sneaking hand off of Tabasco sauce in the snatch switcheroo trick MAY have been funny to her thirty years ago, but SHE AIN’T LAUGHING NOW!!

Men whose careers flourished in the entertainment and political landscapes are now finding themselves living through the throes of double jeopardy. Meaning in SOME cases – IF you thought it wasn’t wrong in the first place, well, now in the softer gentler snowflake generation, you’re going to pay the price worse than a wounded lick Nazi hunted to the ends of the earth for crimes committed at Auschwitz.

A month ago, I detailed my near sexual harassment death experience at Warner Bros, even before I became an official employee at the studio in a coup caused by some needy emotional mixed up girl who was trying to discredit my borderline generosity toward beautiful co=workers. Although I was no saint myself, I prevailed by getting the permanent position at the studio through her incompetence and impatience.

I thought a couple of weeks would fly by if I skipped over composing a follow up that perhaps the fervor would calm down- so you got a reprint of some Yes reviews I had posted on the band’s official website.

BUT no – the story even more intensified AND as of this writing, a giant blow has been struck on one of Los Angeles fabled local celebrity and all around nice guy- KTTV Good Morning Los Angeles host Steve Edwards. A staple tradition on mornings hosting for the past twenty two years on local television. A stand guy and in his glory day of co-hosting and being the lucky slab of meat in-between the two female personalities Dorothy Lucey andJillian Barberie (of whom I immortalized in the beginning of my Deposit Man & the Last Great Gate of Mortality Act II issue), he was not the envy of every single guy tuning in the morning news, but one the toast of the town.

As of yesterday morning, Steve Edwards was let go for an improper behavior probably in my estimation, for possibly an occasional ass pat back when Kevin Beacon was getting his career started in Footloose.

It’s the sublime to the ridiculous, the showering of sexual oppression of late. What’s wrong with a little mouthrape between friends? Or the ones who flat out lie to the tabloids such as Brett Radner and Harvey Weinstein – WHO give mouthrape a very bad name. Yeah, those guys ARE predators – they used their businesses as whore house fronts and threatened prestige talent such as Rose McGowen, Salma Hayek, Olivia Munn, and Rosanna Arquette with their careers if they weren’t propped up as the evening chum bucket.

Here’s a definitive clue for guys when you begin to realize that mouthrape isn’t really working out for someone (and I’m speaking from experience from evenings spent with ex-porn actress Rikki Lixxx) – if she’s not moaning and screaming loudly that she’s going to cum while AT THE SAME TIME trying to squeeze your head like a bad blackhead and then shooting her legs apart so fast while grinding her vagina lips into your face – THEN SHE’S REALLY NOT INTO YOU EATING HER OUT while she’s yelling at you to get your fat face away from in between her thighs.

Those are the hardcore offenders.

The light and airy offenders such as Al Franken and Steve Edwards, I’m sure will perpetually swept under the proverbial rug. I’m harking back to the days of my San Diego shenanigans, in my early twenties when I used to work for a health food packaging warehouse in Solana Beach, where the manager used to keep an eye out on sex charged secretaries who. after a couple of beers on Friday would guarantee us hard working boys a strip show and a little touchy feely. At a part-time job in a restaurant where I worked as a prep chef, the waitresses would come on the male kitchen help and I was no exception. HOWEVER I learned a valuable lesson and it was after this particular experience that I never touched a female co-worker again: a hot senorita warned me that she had caught the flu and knowing how grabbing buttocks of your nearest female colleague was socially exceptional and was sometimes viewed as exchange for gratuity (after all, us kitchen help slaved over the hot stove and me being the Caesar Salad and personal pizza master DIDN’T GET TIPS) that she got for serving the guests THAT it would not be a good idea for a little slap ass action – IF I didn’t want to catch what she add.

I didn’t heed her warning and was out sick with the flu for a few days.

All because I squeezed her ass.

I quit working the Vitamin warehouse in Solana Beach and got a job working odd shifts at local all hours convenience store. One of my managers, Blanca was built like a mother superior brick house equipped with beautiful breasts and a heartshaped ass sent from the ass heavens above and she had a great sense of humor too. She dated a local motorcycle cop in Encinitas. I ended dating a fellow female co-worker who worked the graveyard shift, BUT I also affectionately referred to my boss as TITS.

That was my pet name for her: TITS!!

TITS!!

And you know what she thought about me being calling her TITS???

SHE THOUGHT IT WAS FUCKING FUNNY!! And so did her motorcycle cop boyfriend. He was cool with it too.

But I’m older now. I’m in the respectable entertainment industry of where I’ve been involved since 1997 (that’s counting my short little internship with Comic Con International) and I’ve grown up since then by becoming involved with campaigning for woman’s issues. I volunteered helping the cause of getting woman more involved with reading and creating comics with the Friends of Lulu. I’ve become perceptible towards the issues and learn to be more civil towards what can upset a woman. It’s why that my two female supervisors at Warner Bros stood up for me when that harridan of hate Jennifer tried to frame me for something that I wasn’t capable of doing. If this whole shift in the paradigm of work behavior continues to evolve, I’m going to delve about my experience of refusing to work with a certain editor on my Deposit Man simply because of his mistreatment of woman and reveal a few things he told me about what he fantasized about other woman comic book creators.

So putting aside my own miniscule proclivities spent of my youth in other industries, when I hear about whiny making a big deal out of nothing broadcaster/sports girl/game show/ Playboy model host Leeann Tweeden who co-hosts a morning show with Doug McIntyre on local AM radio leading the charge against US Senator of Minnesota Al Franken over a French kissing rehearsal and photographed fake breast grabbing, I look at this being nothing more than behaving like a tattletale in an overcrowded third grade classroom.

A nation of tattletales. That’s us.

What emotional distress did she really go through? She was single at the time and there is video documented proof that she liked to play along with the boys, as demonstrated in a few captured moments of her grabbing a guitar player’s ass while in mid-performance (although it shows he initiated it first – but she returned the gesture) at the same 2006 USO tour that Franken accompanied with her AND another video with her at another USO tour of her introducing Robin Williams to the audience attended by soldiers serving in Afghanistan by wrapping her leg around him and slapping his ass while giving the good ol’ gine gine, a good thrust into his crotch.

So why the double standard?

So when I posted a meme on facebook being all concerned by all this – I got an irritated reaction from none other than KABC’s morning host, Doug McIntyre himself clarifying that the difference between Franken’s action and Leeann action is that is being discussed before coming on stage that there would be male grabbing AS PART of the act and that consent was given – just like the good days when Bob Hope was going out on all those USO tour during World War II, the Korean War, and The Vietnam, grabbing all the ass that he could get to fill in that old Toluca Lake mansion of where he used to live. ALL CONSENSUAL.

No disrespect to Doug (in case he ever gets around to reading this – hopefully never) but this is an absolute total fail booty bump farce followed by a mutually clumsy ass grab looks kind of improvised and the idea of it comes from absolutely nowhere.

I don’t think Leeann’s word exact words before taking the stage to the band was ‘hey, I’ll be grabbing all your asses on stage. So if you feel a little pinch in your taint area, that will be me. No time for you to sign the permission slips. Let’s just go out and knock ’em dead.’

But wait a minute, there was no objection when Franken handed Leeann the script for the sketch that they were going to perform. It was read and acknowledge, but the real problem came when it was to Leeann’s point of view- YOU can’t really do the same thing in rehearsal as performing the actual sketch live on stage itself – even though the script calls for a real live actual deep kiss to be performed.

In Leeann’s mind: Al Franken, the writer of the sketch performed, was simply trying to DOUBLE DOWN.

And in that picture:

Is he really touching her? Doesn’t look that way to me – and how much action can you truly expect when you’re practically covered in body armor from head to toe?

I really have NO sympathy for her since proof is out there that she once engaged herself in the same type of similar hijinks.

Too much big nothing burger perpetuated under the brainwashing guidance of she man Democratic hater Roger Stone – but they succeeded in taking one of the good guys down – while the rest of the REAL GROPING BOY’S CLUB such as Orangutan Trump continues to flourish under this new disgusting white supremacy that has now permeated our American institution. If Franken has to step down, then so does Dr. Donald Zaius.

If it could get any worse – you might want to take the reminder of that wreckage and pack those expensive 200 dollar plus high top sneakers and move the hell out to Lithuania where they can’t even grasp the concept of sexual harassment and where the body work is probably cheaper.

Because no one really knows your fucking name out there.

In the upcoming weeks: stone mover spiritual advisor/movie reviewer Zak Alvarez will be back with his second review (since the first one, Wind River was such a enormous hit with Purple Pinup Guru fans) of STAR WARS: The Last Jedi. He’ll covering a Q & A with screenwriter and director Rian Johnson.

And in then in the yearly tradition: It’s all accounted for IN THE CRAZINESS OF STATS, in the craziness 2017.